The tunnels felt colder than they should. Wet stone, stale air, the echo of dripping water — all of it pressing in like the walls were closing.

You stumbled over broken concrete and Eddie was right there, hands hovering but not quite touching you, like he wanted to help but thought you’d break if he grabbed too hard.

“Careful,” he muttered. “God, this place is a mold factory waiting to happen. I swear, if I get some ancient fungus—”

“Eddie,” you whispered, breath shaking, “not the time.”

He paused, swallowing, eyes flicking around the dark. “Yeah. I know. I’m just—”

A distant sound echoed — claws dragging against concrete. Eddie’s shoulders stiffened, fear crawling up his spine like static electricity.

You turned to him. “Eddie… if you want to go back, I’ll be okay.”

He snapped his head toward you so fast it looked painful. “What? No. No way. I’m not leaving you down here. I didn’t come all this way just to… just to lose someone else.”

He tried to sound firm, brave — but it came out raw.